Fever
by Ka.Ra.Ea
Summary: When Dean's fevered prayers bring Castiel back for a short time, Dean takes the opportunity to make him stay.


For zobothehobo who's poorly and wanted a sick Dean fic. It's kind of... mutated, but I hope you like anyway and feel better soon. :)

Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural

* * *

Dean wiped his eyes with the back of his hand, squinting a little as he focused on the scene before him. He felt hot and a little dizzy, but he probably just drank a little too much whisky; he'd downed more than he had since he thought Cas was dead and he'd been trying sobriety on for size since he'd been proven wrong. Not complete sobriety of course, but at least enough to stop Sam looking at him like he was shooting up.

He raised the gun from where his grip had lowered while he'd been distracted. Only a fraction but he kicked himself for it. What the hell was going on with his head?

The skinwalker growled while Sam rounded up it's mate. Normally he'd jut shoot it and have done with it, but they needed to know if it had spawned any more mutant puppies before they could leave this stinking town.

He heard Sam shout out and without thinking turned to see what was going on. The skinwalker jumped up, savaging his left arm as he threw it up in self defense. He barely managed to raise his right to put the gun to the dog's head and blow it's brains out, his head was swimming a little and pounding like crazy, and his eyes kept losing focus a little.

Once the monster was dead on the floor, he pushed himself up to stand, fighting the headrush and staggering in the direction he'd heard his baby brother cry out. He raised his slightly trembling arm and shot the bitch as she attempted to mall Sam. It was an almost amusing spectacle, her dog form was a mongrel a little bigger than a beagle, but somehow she'd brought down all six-foot-four of his brother and was making a valiant effort at keeping him that way.

His aim was way off, but he spooked her enough that she let go and took off running.

He held his shredded arm close to his body (and man, that was a lot more blood than he'd expected) as he pulled his brother to his feet with his good arm.

"You alright?" Sam asked, his face covered in concern.

"'M fine." Dean slurred unconvincingly. Damn, his head was spinning now. Whatever was making him feel like crap was clearly not being helped by blood loss.

Sam just shot him a pissy look and hooked his arm under Dean's shoulders, despite limping a little himself.

By the time the got back to the motel Dean entire left side looked like he'd taken a dip in a vat of red food colouring even with the rag Sam had wrapped tightly around his arm. He'd spent most of the drive twisted in the seat so as not to get blood on the upholstery. It wouldn't be the first time, but dried blood is a bitch to get out of the stitching.

He was barely conscious as Sam unwrapped his arm, pouring booze over it before wrapping it up again with a towel as he glanced in panic at the make-shift first aid kit in front of him. Even with his experience he wasn't sure how to stitch a wound like that, there weren't enough edges to sew together. He took a deep breath, puffing out his cheeks, and removed the towel again.

Dean's thoughts were sluggish, each one trailing off before he had a chance to finish it. His lips moved nearly silently, and Sam strained to hear what he was saying.

His heart clenched. His brother was praying again. To Castiel.

He knew Dean did; most nights, whenever Sam was having a bad day with the trial side-effects and sometimes even in his sleep, and it killed him every time there was no flap of wings, no disconcerting stare pricking the back of his neck from across the room. But this was the first time he'd done it in front of Sam. Knowingly at least.

He dragged his attention back to the work at hand and started piecing together the torn skin, wiping away the blood less often than he would have liked. He should have been bleeding more than this; it was a really bad sign.

His brother's mouth quirked up in a near smile as his gaze hovered somewhere behind Sam. Sam tried not to get distracted again, readjusting his grip on the wet cloth he was using to wipe away the blood and whatever dirt had clung to it.

"Allow me." A voice said, directly behind his shoulder.

Sam cursed and fell sideways a little, lunging for his gun before the familiarity had set in. He looked up at where the angel was brushing his fingers over Dean's face and felt his mouth open. "Cas?"

The angel didn't look away from his injured brother. "Sam." He replied, more an acknowledgement than an answer.

"What are you doing here?" Sam asked, a little dazed. "You've been gone weeks."

"Your brother's prayers sounded... Off." His fingers hadn't left Dean's face, even thought his arm was once again whole.

"Why didn't you come before?" Sam couldn't help but notice that Dean's gaze still wasn't lucid.

"I was busy." Cas said, more than a little tetchily. "What's wrong with him?"

Sam swallowed. "So it isn't just the blood loss?"

"I've healed him, but he isn't... Better." Cas sounded frustrated and more than a bit worried.

Sam's own eyes widened and begun to tear a little. "Why? Why isn't it working?"

"I can only heal physical injuries, but when I heal the fever, he just gets sicker." His fingers left Dean's face at last, though his eyes never did.

Suspicion and a small nagging feeling of relief dawned on the younger hunter. "Can you heal viruses?"

The angel's brown furrowed. "There are thousands of viruses running around in your system every day, determining which one was causing a problem could take days."

"So that's a no." Sam deduced, a breathy laugh of relief coming out as he contemplated that this was something humans could do easier than angels.

"No, I could heal it if I knew which one it was." Cas defended.

"But you don't." Sam raised his hand to his brother's head, wincing a little at how clammy he was. "Will he be alright?"

"I know no more than you do." Cas replied, a mixture of haughty and frustrated.

"Well, it's just a bug, right? Take more than that to knock Dean on his ass for long." Sam reassured both himself and his friend. "C'mon, let's get him laying down."

Two hours later and the fever had gone down a little, his body no longer having to compensate for blood loss, and Sam was fairly sure he was out of the danger zone.

Castiel threw a lingering glance at Dean's sleeping form. "If I am not needed, I have other things I should attend to."

"No! You can't just turn up after being missing for over a month and disappear again, how would I explain that to Dean? He's been worried sick!" Sam protested.

Cas hesitated, eyes darting between the brothers.

"At least stay until he's better, until he can see for himself that you're okay." Sam pressed. "It shouldn't take more than a couple days."

The angel stared at Dean for a moment before nodding decisively and striding to the end of the bed.

"He's not doing so bad now, and there's still a skinwalker on the loose. You be okay staying with him until I get back?" Sam was already shrugging on his coat. There was no way he was staying in a room with an awkward angel and a contagious brother all night, and that bitch needed catching.

The angel frowned, well aware of what Dean's opinion would be of Sam finishing the hunt alone, but nodded anyway. It wasn't like he was really asking.

Sam was out the door in minutes, leaving Castiel alone in his vigil over Dean.

He couldn't help but feel concerned; Sam had said Dean would be on his feet again in no time, but he felt a little mistrust at anything he couldn't himself heal.

He pulled up a chair from the table beyond the half-wall separating the beds from the kitchenette and set it close to the occupied bed. Dean always seemed slightly less 'creeped out' when he found him sitting watching rather than stood in the corner. He said it made it seem less stalkerish.

Two more hours saw Dean slip gradually into wakefulness, grumbling and complaining about being cold and achy and only opening his eyes when no snarky retort reached his ears.

His hand shot out to the angel sat beside his bed, checking he was real and not a fever induced hallucination. "Cas?" He croaked out, hand clenching in trench coat for all the good it would do. If Cas wanted to disappear there was nothing Dean could do to stop him.

"I'm here." Cas said quietly, unsure what to expect. The look on the hunter's face before he left last time flashed back to him, hurt and betrayed and desperate. The image that never left his mind for long flooding in as soon as that one left; Dean on his knees, battered and bloody and flinching away from Castiel's touch. It had been the worst moment of his existence so far.

Dean fidgeted closer, his weakening grip growing desperate as it failed. "Don't go." His groggy mind managed to beg.

Cas breathed in sharply. Dean still wanted him to stay. He wished more than anything that he could, but at least he could be here for now. "I'll still be here when you wake up." He promised, stroking Dean's heated brow and leaving behind the compulsion to sleep. He needed rest if he was going to recover quickly. A part of him hoped that Dean would take longer to recover than Sam suspected so that he would be compelled to stay longer to fulfill his promise.

Dean woke again four hours later, much to Castiel's affectionate chagrin. The hunter was too stubborn for his own good, that last sleep suggestion should have lasted at least eight solid hours.

Dean was more lucid now, though he groaned and complained at every movement, and his gaze immediately sought out his friend. "You're still here." He said in poorly disguised relief.

Cas thought the answer was fairly self evident, so picked up the plastic stick Sam had brought a little over an hour and half ago before he'd left for his own room (a brief explanation of contagious illness and Castiel had agreed that it was the best course of action for now) and held it near to Dean's mouth. "Sam said I have to check your temperature every hour." He explained.

"That's because Sammy's a whiny bitch." Dean grumbled, but opened his mouth when Cas pressed the thermometer to his closed lips.

Castiel's lips quirked a little at the sight of Dean, face still a little puffy, hair sleep ruffled sat crossed armed and scowling with the thermometer sticking out of his pouting mouth.

"What's so funny?" Dean demanded.

"Nothing." Cas answered wisely. He doubted Dean would want to know that he thought Dean looked... What was the word? Cute. Yes that was it, he thought Dean looked cute. He silently reached the resolve to die before letting the hunter know that.

"How long are you staying for?" Dean asked once the plastic stick had been removed from his mouth. He avoided the angel's eyes, not really wanting an answer, but needing one anyway.

"Until you are recovered." Castiel's tongue screamed to say otherwise, to say that he was never leaving again, but he knew he couldn't. A small part of him that saw an end to all the fighting held the hope that one day he would be able to say that. He wanted more than anything to stay with Dean forever, just the thought made his chest twist with want. But not now, he reminded himself, not when there was still work he needed to do.

Dean nodded, hands clutching the blanket in an attempt to push back the prickling feeling in his eyes and the swollen feeling in his throat.

"As long as I am able..." Cas, found himself needing Dean to look at him before he could continue. He rested his hand on one of Dean's, the hunter's shock having the desired effect as his gaze lifted to meet the angel's. "As long as I am able, I will always come back to you."

Dean swallowed compulsively and tried to force a sarcastic comment about feelings and female anatomy past his lips, but settled for nodding and looking away again. He didn't pull back his hand; for some reason the thought of doing so didn't even occur to him. He coughed, and found his already sandpapery throat closing up a little. He gestured for the water Sam had placed on the nightstand.

Cas passed it to him, along with a huge pill he said Sam had given him.

"Man, what is it? It looks like a damn suppository!" Dean complained, unwilling to swallow it.

Cas frowned. "I do not believe it's intended application is-"

Dean cut him off with a hand gesture. "What did he say it was?"

"A food supplement. Vitamin C and Echinacea, mostly." He skimmed the ingredients on the bottle. "It's supposed to support your immune system."

"I'd take chicken soup over that any day." Dean held the pill at arms reach, as if it was comprised of something disgusting.

"While chicken does contain some vitamins and compounds that would help your body fight off this illness, the amounts are negligible in comparison to these pills." Cas insisted. "Or fresh fruits and vegetables." He threatened when Dean still looked like refusing the pill.

Dean glared at him before downing the supplement with a healthy mouthful of water. "Are you done playing nurse yet?" He asked petulantly.

"Sam asked that I look after you while he stays a safe distance away." Castiel answered, unconcerned by Dean's sulkiness.

"Well, Florence Nightingale, can I at least have some painkillers, I ache all over and my head is pounding like a-" He looked at the angel's face. "What's wrong with painkillers?" He whined.

"They would suppress your fever." The angel answered with very little sympathy.

Dean sighed. "Isn't that a good thing?"

"Fever is a mechanism your body uses to fight off the infection." Castiel got up to refill the water. "The best thing for your headache is to drink plenty. You're dehydrated. Fruit or vegetable juice would be preferable, but we don't have any and Sam won't be back to check on you for another few hours, so we'll have to make do until then."

Dean slumped back into the bed. Being ill was no fun when you had a health freak angel looking after you. "Can we at least turn on the TV? Take my mind off it?"

Castiel looked ready to say no, but looked at Dean's pleading face and sighed. "Of course." He handed Dean the remote control.

It only took an hour and a half of early morning TV for Dean to drift off again, snoring faintly and frowning in his sleep. Cas couldn't help thinking that he looked much improved since he'd first healed him. It probably wouldn't be long before he was completely well. And Cas would have to leave again.

As if sensing the direction the angel's thought's had taken, the sleeping man's frown deepened.

Cas reached forward to lay his hand on Dean's cheek, in the same place he had when he had healed him after beating him bloody. He wondered at how quickly Dean had put that behind him; for Castiel it was a constant thought, a pain brought back fresh whenever he let his thoughts wander from the tablet. He knew better than to presume Dean forgave him; Dean very rarely forgave, and when he did it was forgiveness earned not gifted; but for some reason his hunter had decided it didn't matter all that much. He wondered what he'd done to become worth so much in Dean's eyes.

Dean turned over, his face creasing in discomfort, on the verge of waking up from a persistent ache in his shoulder.

Castiel allowed his hand to drift down, numbing the ache. Really, he didn't need to move his hand to do so, but he was afraid the hunter would awaken to find him caressing his face and he'd been around long enough to know the discovery would make Dean awkward.

Another twenty minutes and Castiel picked up the thermometer, sliding it between Dean's slack lips. His temperature had risen since the last time. He tried not to worry, this was Dean's body's way of healing its self, but to have him get worse again... The thought entered his mind that maybe he would keep getting worse and this time he wouldn't get better again. He chided himself for his absurdity, but he couldn't help it. He wished he knew what room Sam was in so that he could go to him for reassurance, but he'd barely heard most of what the younger hunter had said when he last checked in.

As the hours passed with Dean's fever only increasing, he began to imagine that Dean wouldn't wake up. The image was so strong and so persistent that he couldn't find it in himself to be concerned at Dean's lack of rest when he woke up again after only three more hours of sleep.

"Dean." He breathed as the man stirred.

Dean stilled. He knew that voice. He looked around to find the face that matched. "Cas." His voice was barely there, but Castiel heard it all the same. His fever and lack of sleep combined to send a surge of panic through him, feeding on his paranoia over Cas disappearing. "Cas!" He fumbled, trying to reach for his friend.

"I'm right here Dean, as I told you I would be." Cas met his hand halfway, pulling it to his chest. "I'm not going anywhere until you are well again."

"Don't leave." Dean's grip tightened to the point that any normal man would be pained by it, but Castiel just gripped back. "Promise me you won't leave."

"I... Dean, I can't do that." Cas answered gently.

Dean's hazed gaze hardened and trapped Castiel's. "Please." He ground out.

Castiel could have wept. "I can't."

Dean released his hand and closed his eyes. "Then you're gonna leave, leave now."

"No."

"Damn it Cas, is there anything you _can_ do?!" Dean croaked out, sending himself into a coughing fit in the process.

"Dean, I don't want to leave." Cas admitted quietly.

"Then why are you?"

Cas reached for Dean's hand again, but the hunter pulled away. "Because I have to.

"Why?"

"I can't tell you."

"And we're back to the 'I can'ts'. God, do you even hear yourself?" Dean tried, unsuccessfully to pull himself up the headboard. "Everything we've been through, everything that's happened because of your damned secrets, and you can't tell me this?"

Cas' face was pained. "Dean, if I could I would tell you in a heartbeat, but I just can't."

"Why not?"

The angel sighed. "Dean..." He didn't know how to explain this; how ever since he had touched the Angel Tablet he'd known exactly what he needed to do and that it was all right, that nothing bad would happen as a result. It wasn't a mistake this time.

"I get it, you can't tell me." Dean grumbled before rolling over to face away from the angel.

"Everything will become clear." Cas tried to reassure.

"Yeah, whatever. Just don't expect me to come save your ass when it all goes to hell. Again." Dean's eyes were stingy and sore and he needed to close them. If only he knew for a fact that the man beside him would be true to his word and still be there when he woke up. It wouldn't be the first time Cas had lied to him.

"You need rest." Cas said firmly, leaning over to help the process along.

"No!" Dean flinched back. "I don't need you freaky angel mojo to fall asleep."

"My 'freaky angel mojo' was good enough to heal you, to heal your brother." Cas argued, stung by the comment. He'd thought they were past this.

"Well, we've had enough time to learn to live without it. Better not get used to it again." Dean said bitterly.

"I will be back." Castiel told him.

"Yeah, if you're able. I heard you the first time." Dean practically spat.

"Your lack of faith in me is understandable." Cas lowered his gaze to the floor. "I will do right by you, Dean. For once, I will get something right." He promised, eyes coming up to the hunter, softening as he realised he'd fallen asleep again.

By the time Sam came back, Dean's fever had once again dropped, though the ache of dehydration kept his sleeping form from true rest. His pallor had improved and his skin felt less clammy, though the bags under his eyes had only worsened.

"He been awake much?" Sam asked, dumping the bag of canned soup and juices on the counter in the kitchenette.

"He awakened several times for brief periods." Castiel stood to examine the contents of the bag and Dean fidgeted in his sleep.

Sam nodded and was silent for a few moments while he glanced at the chart he'd asked Cas to write out of Dean's hourly temperature readings. He put the pad back down on the nightstand and stood looking at the angel for a while.

"Was there something else you wanted to know?" Cas asked without turning around.

"Are you really leaving again?" Sam asked tiredly.

"Yes." Castiel pulled a small saucepan from a cupboard and spent a moment examining the controls for the hotplates.

Sam nodded; he hadn't really expected a different answer. "He misses you."

The angel froze.

Sam sighed. "Can't you do whatever it is you're doing without disappearing?"

"No." Castiel answered quietly, regretfully.

"What is so important that you have to just... Abandon him?" Sam demanded quietly. He wasn't sure of all the ins and outs of his brother's relationship with the angel, but he knew how broken Dean had been when he thought Cas was dead, and then again when he thought he'd left him in purgatory. He didn't know if Dean could survive it again, not with everything else that was going on.

"I'm not abandoning him."

"No? 'Cause I'm pretty sure that's the way he sees it." Sam said softly.

The angel continued the process of heating the canned soup. "I can't help that."

"Yes, yes you can! You just have to stay. We'll let you do whatever you need to do, take long trips, keep your secrets, we'll help you if you want us too, or we'll stay out of your way. Just, please, stay. He's lost you enough times already." Sam pleaded because he knew his brother wouldn't.

"We should wake him, he's not eaten yet and having some water first might be easier on his stomach." Cas said, leaving the pan on the hob to enter the bedroom area.

Sam sighed. "Alright. Just... Think about it."

Castiel ignored him in favour of gently shaking Dean's shoulder as he'd seen the brothers do to wake each other before.

"Go 'way." Dean mumbled, burrowing deeper into his blankets.

Cas shook his shoulder again. "Dean."

"I said get lost, Sammy or I swear I'll..." He trailed off as he registered the voice.

Cas helped his up the headboard into a sitting position.

"I'm not freakin' dying, Cas! I think I can sit up on my own." Dean shook him off.

Castiel just stood to tend to the now lightly bubbling soup.

"You know, you could be a bit nicer to him." Sam admonished quietly.

"Why? He's just gonna disappear as soon as I'm on my feet again." Dean shrugged, accepting the glass of water his brother handed to him.

"And being a jerk to him is real incentive for him to stick around." Sam pointed out.

Dean rolled his eyes. "He's not leaving 'cause I'm not being friendly enough."

"We don't know why he's leaving, Dean. Maybe it doesn't even matter." Sam glanced at where Cas was pouring the soup into a bowl. "What I do know is that you're a mess without him, don't even try to deny it."

Dean scowled at him. "And the purpose of this eostrogen-fest is?"

"Talk to him. I know he's not exactly... Responsive right now, but if anyone can get through to him it's you." Sam licked his lips as Cas placed a glass of fruit juice on a tray with the bowl of soup. He only had a few more seconds. "The guy rebelled against heaven for you. Twice. I don't think there's much you could ask him that he wouldn't do." Sam stood as the angel came within earshot of their quiet conversation. "Anyway, I gotta go. Still not sure there aren't any more skinwalkers around town, got a couple more places to check. Bye Cas." He made his way out of the room as quickly as he could without looking suspicious.

"Goodbye Sam." Cas set the tray down on Dean's lap.

"Dude, if you dare try and feed me I will end you." Dean warned.

Two bowls of soup and a grudgingly swallowed glass of tropical fruit juice later, and Cas was almost certain Dean was over the worst.

"So, you sticking around 'till I'm all better, or just 'till you're sure I'm not gonna die of a fever?" Dean questioned while the angel rinsed out the bowl in the sink.

"As long as I'm needed." Cas answered.

"Hate to break it to ya, Cas, but you ain't needed. You weren't in the first place. So if you got somewhere you gotta be, don't let little ol' me stop you." Dean pulled himself to stand to prove his point. Unfortunately two things happened at that moment; one, he realised standing hadn't been such a good move after all, and two, he got a mental close up of Sam's prize bitch face over him being mean to Cas. He sighed, lowering himself back to the mattress and rubbing a hand over his face. "It's not the healing we need you for; we don't just want you around to save our sorry asses when we're up a certain creek. We need you... I need you," he corrected after a breath, "for the little stuff. For the days when Sammy's hiding bloody tissues, or I'm downing one too many shots. Mostly I just need to know you're around, that I can count on you. That you're okay." He hoped to God the angel would speak soon and alleviate the mortification he felt at speaking those words.

"Sam said..." Cas trailed off before starting again at the hunter's eager look. "Sam said that I could continue what I'm doing. That you wouldn't question me or my actions." He glanced at Dean who's eyes were widened, guessing but not quite knowing what the angel was talking about. "If I stayed." He explained.

"If that's what you need, then sure. But no funny stuff; I think you're going down Leviathan Lane again and the deal's off." Dean agreed, hardly believing that he was, but needing to know he'd done everything he could.

Cas met his eyes. "You would need to have faith in me, trust that what I was doing was important. You'd need to contain your curiosity. I couldn't have you spying on me or-" He cut himself off. "You would need to have faith in me." He repeated.

Dean knew the deal was made to be broken; that at some point one of them would find themselves unable to keep their word; but right now he didn't care. His angel was staying. Might stay. He grinned uncertainly. "So are you staying?"

Cas held his gaze a moment, evaluating, before nodding slowly.

Dean was up and across the room before either of them had time to think about it. It was only meant to be a brief hug, but when Cas' arms raised to return the gesture he couldn't bring himself to let go. Not least because he was fairly certain that the embrace was the only thing currently keeping him upright.

His theory was proven correct when Cas released him, face a slightly bashful smile.

Dean made a grab for the counter and missed, crashing to the floor, his friend dropping to his knees beside him as soon as he hit the ground. "Guess I was a little overenthusiastic." He laughed, scratching the back of his head, embarrassed.

Cas looped his arm under the man's shoulders, lifting him with ease, and walking him back to bed. He found his hand detained as he tried to straighten up.

"You sure you're gonna stay?" Dean asked quietly. "You're not going to change your mind and run off on me?"

Cas hesitated.

"Cas?"

"I'm not going to change my mind." His voice was determined.

Dean nodded, relaxing a little. "Hey, Cas?"

"Yes, Dean?"

"You didn't touch the Angel Tablet until _after_ you dropped the knife; what made you stop?" He picked at the blanket in an uncharacteristically nervous manner.

Cas avoided his gaze.

"Come _on,_ Cas, you gotta know what it was. You don't just break out of brainwashing for no reason." He pushed.

The angel's eyes darted back to his. "I would do anything for you." He watched as the meaning of his words filtered into Dean's head.

"When you say anything..?"

"_Anything_." Cas affirmed.

"What if I..." Dean coughed.

"You only have to ask." He squeezed the hand that still held his, and Dean jumped a little, seemingly having forgotten that he'd captured the angel's hand.

Dean mumbled something indistinct.

"When I say you have only to ask, you do have to ask aloud." Cas said in amusement.

Dean blushed and glared at him, before jutting up his chin. "Kiss m-"

He'd barely opened his mouth before he found it somewhat otherwise occupied. Not that he was complaining. "Damn, now I see why Meg was so hung up on you." He panted a little when Cas pulled back.

Castiel smiled nervously. "It's about the only thing I _did_ learn from the pizza man. I know most of the theory, but the application is confusing. I still do not understand the purpose of striking someone while you have intimate relations with them." He frowned in puzzlement.

Dean grinned. "We have plenty of time to explore all the application you want. But right now I _really_ want a cheeseburger."

"Dean, you're still not well enough to manage solids." Cas denied.

"Then I'll have to think of something else I want." He pulled the angel closer.

"You're not nearly well enough for that either." Cas stated, but sank towards the hunter anyway.

Seven bowls of soup, three glasses of juice and two and a half days later and Dean was almost good as new.

And Castiel was still there.


End file.
